All Scientists Die Sick

By Vince P Hennessy

The long journey for a cure and experimental science slowly comes to an end for Dr. Kronos Nephus as he and all the unique individuals he has encountered so far head to the main building for R.O.M.A.B.A. Industries in England. The future unstoppable, the people who had lived lives of suffering and solitude for so long are all about to battle for

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palmetto Publishing
• Release date: Jun 14, 2021
• ISBN: 9781638375197

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Battle Aftermath

(Homestead, Florida. April 18, 2022.)

A

failed hero, his body and spirit terribly injured, Timothy looked around in a desperate effort of spotting The Sinful Son escaping with Sir Thomas, but no one was around. The only people in the area were the incoming police and the S.W.A.T. Units that were accompanying them. Timothy knew that it was time to go, as there was nothing left for him there except for consequences.

His muscles sore and his movements languid, Timothy started walking across the street when he saw Kronos half-limping out from behind one of the smashed police cars. Woah there! Stop moving, man! You’ve got a bullet in your leg, Timothy exclaimed as he pointed to a dark stain underneath Kronos’ right knee.

Is that so? Kronos muttered without care as he rolled up his pants leg and looked down at the injury. Ah, correct. I didn’t even really feel or see it until now, but one of those cops accidentally shot me through the black smoke. It was from far away, and my skin is thick and covers bones that are almost eight times denser than regular bones, so I’m relatively fine. Manmade weapons that are not of the experimental level pose no threat to me, and it’s probably by my own power alone that I could be defeated since I stand above all others. Still, I should’ve made the pants bulletproof besides just the lab coat and the R.N.T. Suit, but it’s what it is. There’s no need to worry about it.

Timothy looked at the wound. The bullet had not penetrated too deep into the skin. He winced in disgust at how dark Kronos’ blood was before the wound was covered back up. If you say so. Compared to how the rest of us turned out, you’re actually quite lucky.

"It is quite a mess. This street is chaotic, and many lives were lost today, though mostly insignificant ones as far as I’m concerned. All that matters is us three. Where’s Thomas?"

Hesitantly, Timothy hung his head in utter shame. I’m truly sorry, Kronos, but I failed you, myself, and everyone here, along with the future generations. We thought he was defeated, but The Dark Depressor got him. Sir Thomas bravely saved me. I didn’t know-

Faster than he could react to it, his nervous system readjusting to normality, Timothy was instantly slammed against the smashed police car by Kronos, who tightly gripped the failed hero’s neck with the deadly Atomic Gauntlet. That’s damn right, Timothy! You failed miserably, and if we don’t find Thomas, I’m going to fucking tear you apart on an atomic level! For all of your heroic talk, you ended up being worthless and useless in that battle. I stayed uninvolved for your sake because I knew how much this battle meant to you, but if I had known that the old geezer was going to be a gentleman up until the very end and trade his life for your pathetic one, I would’ve destroyed everyone here instead. He means a lot more to me than people would think, and I’m glad your father is dead and can’t see what happened here today. You tore apart your own family for your dream, and then you threw that dream out because your obsession with it made you reckless. Was it worth it, Timothy? The future that’s coming is one that only I can prevent, but after meeting you, I changed my mind because I realized that maybe some of the rival scientists were strong enough to continue onward, but you’ve proven me wrong! You’ve let me down in every way! I was originally correct, as always, and I weakened to the level of a human and changed my mind because your heroism inspired me. Now, I’m-

I know! Timothy yelled out through tears. "But for right now, we have to get out of here, and we have to leave now! The cops are here with backup, and we’ll be arrested, so let’s go."

Back at the house, it was eerily quiet, and the two men knew it was only a matter of time before the household grew more chaotic than it had been out on the street. Stella had been preoccupied upstairs when the men arrived home, but she would come downstairs, and once she saw what was going on, there was no doubt that there would be tears and yelling.

In the kitchen, Kronos was sitting in a chair with his injured leg prompted up on a chair across from him, using his high-tech sunglasses and vast intelligence to analyze his wound. Timothy was in the bathroom, shaving away his slight beard and, after debating for a minute, getting rid of his new mustache. As Timothy moped into the kitchen to help out Kronos, Stella walked into the kitchen, screaming at the top of her lungs upon seeing Timothy in his costume, and Kronos’ injured leg.

Silence, Kronos commanded. It’s not as easy for me to assess the severity of my injury with you screeching over there like an untamed banshee. Take your shock out on your son, not me.

"Timothy! What the fuck is going on here? Your hair is all coarse, and there’s grey in it, and what are you wearing? Is that a hero’s costume? And what is that on my kitchen table? Stella asked in violent disbelief as she started pointing to the R.N.T. Suit on the kitchen table. What’s going on here? Don’t tell me you dressed up to try and stop that voodoo man or something stupid!"

"The only thing stupid here is you! Kronos has a bullet in his leg, but all you want to do is lecture me and complain about me while yelling and cursing. I’m a real hero, known as The Chronological Changer, and it’s all over the news, but clearly, you haven’t been paying attention. And, we did go fight The Sinful Son! You think heroism is all some stupid fantasy full of crap, but it’s not! I’ve become the very thing you always tried to stop me from becoming because…"

The arguing went back and forth for quite a while, gr owing louder and more aggressive with each word as Timothy and Stella verbally battled in the on-going war of ideas that had been started when he was just a young child. Kronos, meanwhile, sat and watched, listening and observing human interaction for himself, finding it all intriguing and displeasing. The drama got extremely personal and verbally violent as the two yelled and cursed back and forth, throwing ideas of heroism and family all over the place. Kronos yawned.

Shut up, you stupid bitch! Timothy yelled before uppercutting his mother and then jabbing her in the face with his other hand. I fucking hate you so much!

Kronos jumped out of his seat, rushed over, and smashed Timothy in the back with a punch from the Atomic Gauntlet, nearly breaking his spine before he grabbed him from the back of his neck and held him against the fridge. Now, I’ve been rather passive and inactive since we’ve gotten to Florida, and I hate your mother and I’m extremely disappointed in you, but as a man who lost his parents at a very young age, as an honorable and prideful man, and for the sake of all parentless children, intervening on such domestic violence is necessary, Kronos stated neutrally with aggressive honesty. I cannot allow you to cross the line and inflict physical pain upon a parent when many of us long for one. I understand that you do not consider her your mother and that you truly despise that wicked woman, but you must cool your temper immediately, Timothy. After today’s events, it’s quite possible that the path of redemption will not be enough for you to ever call yourself a hero. It may be true that only a select few know the truth about what happened today and how much of a failure you were, but a true hero wouldn’t be able to live with such knowledge out there. Don’t make it any worse or more impossible for yourself.

You’re right, as always, Kronos, but we can’t be fighting each other right now! Timothy coughed out. Sir Thomas needs us, and he needs us as soon as possible. Whether I end up a hero, a villain, or a depressed bum after this is all over, right now I need to continue being a disgraced hero, just so we can save your caretaker. Got it?

Kronos let go before taking a step back, and Timothy slid down the fridge, gasping for air. Of course, I got it. I’m well aware of that, though I’d hate for a disgraced hero to rescue a man whose goal is to be a gentleman. It might ruin his reputation, or perhaps improve it, but I can’t be worried about that as of this moment. Kronos looked at Stella, who lay on the kitchen floor, unconscious. She’ll be out for a while, and we should give her medical attention, but that’ll have to wait. First, I have to extract this bullet out of my leg. I would have done it on the battlefield, but I got a gulp of that gut-microbiome-attacking gas. Predicting such a possibility, I had already boosted my microbiome to a higher level, but it wasn’t enough to fully stabilized me.

I think we have a first aid kit somewhere, or at least pliers to get that bullet out of-

"There’s no need for you to retrieve any supplies for the operation. After all, my title, though not certified by some pathetic school or test, is Dr. Kronos Nephus, and a simple bullet extraction is nothing more than putting cream on a small mosquito bite. Of course, we won’t be extracting it in a normal fashion," Kronos said mischievously with a smirk as he pulled out his Deconstructor Blade. Activating the current that coated the outside of the blade, Kronos placed the sharp tip of the knife against the bottom of the bullet before twirling it around in a circle, penetrating deeper into the shell and disintegrating it.

Wait, stop! Stop! Timothy shouted as he watched the operation, stepping closer. You’re hurting yourself, Kronos. I mean, you’re getting rid of the bullet by tearing it apart atomically, but you’re also getting some of your cells along with it. You’ll have a hole in your leg.

Do you know how many times I’ve been deconstructed and reconstructed? My immune system might have forgotten about my teleportation, and my memories of the pain might be gone, but my cells are separate from my brain’s memories, and they’re quite used to the feeling, Kronos said through clenched teeth. Tolerating pain is one of the main things that makes us superior. It’s remarkable how the human body adapts. Slowly standing up, Kronos started to put the R.N.T. Suit back on. I’m heading to the bathroom to patch up this hole and stop the fresh bleeding. While you’re waiting, head upstairs to the room I used last night, and we’ll create a plan.

Nodding his head, Timothy went upstairs, stepping over his mom, and was soon joined by Kronos. Glad to see you’re perfectly fine, as we’re going to need both of us on this mission, Timothy commented as he glanced at Kronos’ leg. I appreciate you letting me have the spotlight, but heroes aren’t meant to care solely about fame or recognition, and we’re not supposed to be ashamed to ask for help from others, partner. What’s our plan? Can you track them somehow?

The education system pays its teachers to say that there are no stupid questions, but that could not be further from the truth. What you asked is amongst the endless amount of stupid questions asked every day. Of course, I can track them! I built a tracker into Thomas’ suit. I trust him, but I knew that if the rival scientists were to ever take a hostage, it would be the old man without scientific-based powers. You’re too fast, and I’m too unpredictable. Kronos opened up his laptop. "The signal seems to have disappeared at a certain point in the ocean, meaning there’s a jammer or something. Either way, we’re going to rescue that old son of a bitch known as my father, and we’re going to end The Sinful Son’s boss so I can finally continue on with my journey to find a cure."

CHAPTER 2

The Sinless Son

(Homestead, Florida. That Same Day: April 18, 2022.)

W

hen Sir Thomas regained consciousness, he was overwhelmed by a sore feeling throughout his body. His eyes, after he forced them open, were able to slowly look around. It was pitch black, and he could not see anything. The only light in the room was on him, and its rays only spread out to three feet in front of him, revealing nothing but a cement floor. His body was strung up, each limb being pulled to a different corner as his body hung there, suspended above the ground. He was a few inches above the floor and an inch away from a wall that stood behind him. Sir Thomas pulled and struggled to move, but the ropes bounding him were tied too tight, and he was too weak.

"An expected reaction of prey is that it will undoubtedly struggle with all it can, both mentally and physically, in an effort to escape what bounds it before the predator that captured it can feast, a monstrous voice stated as glowing red eyes appeared across the black room from Sir Thomas. As the overpowering voice, maliciously whispering like death by undetected cancer, continued to preach, the eyes slowly came forward with each sentence, burning more and more powerfully. Then, of course, one must also worry about the dreadful parasites, who will steal you from the predator and make you their own meal. Such is the case of the fly within the sinister strands of the spider’s web or the death-sentencing cells of a Venus Flytrap’s deceitful mouth. What are humans? Prey? Predator? Parasite? Do we have a choice in which one we can be? Does being a predator mean giving up humanity and letting selfishness and survival take over instead of politeness and peace? Is being a parasite wrong or clever? Such questions are rather intriguing, and you’ll find that they relate to us more than one could ever imagine. Even I struggle with the questions of the universe and this reality that my unfathomable mind summons during its natural pondering during the blackest hours of the night and the brightest hours of the day, forever turning like a bioreactor blade through conglomerations of negative emotions, powering my existence."

Bloody Hell! If I wasn’t a literary expert after years of reading and studying books, I’m not sure I would’ve been able to understand a single word of what you just said, Sir Thomas replied. He chose to speak freely, as he was not afraid of death or The Sinful Son, and he was hopeful and almost sure that Kronos and Timothy were on their way to rescue him. He could imagine their grand entrance. "I already had a headache from being knocked out, but you’ve gone and made it worse. You’re quite the talker, and you ask a lot of unanswerable questions. Then again, I’m not surprised that you speak so sophisticatedly. Out on the street, you were rhyming quite a lot, but now I see that you are not."

There was a sound of metal cracking like human bones snapping and being crushed into fragments. "You would dare to, at such a perilous time, choose to speak to me in rhyme? To do so is condemning and has insulted my pride and honor, and you’ll undoubtedly end up a goner. However, what you pointed out was not wrong. You speak the truth, as I do not constantly rhyme all the time. It is random, and typically used when I am getting a point across to someone I am preaching to. Of course, my emotions also affect my rhyming skills, which are the greatest in all of existence, both past and future. Connecting words in such a delightful and clever manner comes naturally without pause or a moment to forcibly think of what would match perfectly or slant just right. As far my most notable dialect, which is, undoubtedly, difficult for any mere mortal to interpret and understand, I’m quite grateful that your years of wisdom and literature grant you the honor and privilege of speaking to me on a level that no other could ever hope to